He got in the car and drove out to Lower Shepton. It was growing dark and the snow was hardening on the country road, so he had to take his time, cursing as he went. Driving through the village, he noticed a sign to the station and turned off. It was possible that she was there, waiting for the train back. He climbed the steps onto the bridge and scanned the handful of passengers on the far platform, waiting for the Marlbury train. There was no sign of Gina.
Back in the car, he drove towards Charter Hall. There were no pavements here but he scanned the sides of the road. Approaching the house, he saw two women emerge and part. One started to walk towards him – an odd-looking figure in a red hat and a long fur coat. When did you see a woman in a fur coat these days? Then the beam of his headlight caught her face, eyes shut against the light, mouth open, and he braked hard. Getting out, he looked across at her.
‘Get in the car,’ he said.
She opened her eyes. ‘David? What the hell are you doing here?’
‘Ditto?’ he asked grimly, taking her arm none too gently and pushing her into the passenger seat.
‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked.
He ignored her, turning the car and setting off at a speed he knew was too fast for the state of the road. He had no intention of talking to her; he was too angry to trust himself. In the end, though, it was her uncharacteristic silence that made him glance at her. She was leaning back against the headrest with her eyes closed and he could see the glinting snail trail of a tear running down her bruised cheek.
‘What happened?’ he asked.
‘Nothing. It’s all right. I just spooked myself, that’s all,’ she said, but she didn’t open her eyes. ‘I just wanted to get another DVD. I knew they’d get rid of them as soon as you –’
‘I know what you thought. You thought I was stupid.’
‘No! It was just – anyway I was right. They’d all gone.’
‘Yes.’
‘So, did you get hold of one?’
‘Yes.’
‘You did?’
‘Yes.’
‘And?’
‘And you were right. That’s what I called to tell you.’
‘So, what –’
‘We’ve made an arrest.’
She opened her eyes. ‘Who?’
‘I’m not telling you anything more, Gina. You’re out of control.’
‘Well, it’s not Neil Cunningham, I know that. I’ve just seen him, getting rid of – of the evidence.’
‘What evidence?’ His voice was sharp.
‘Some of the stuff you saw on the video, I should think.’ He could hear tears threatening. ‘The contents of a child’s bedroom. He took it away in the boat.’
‘Right.’
‘Glad to be of service.’
She had been shocked and scared but she was putting on a good show, he had to admit, and as she climbed out of the car he watched her gather the last shreds of bravado about her. ‘Thank you for the lift,’ she said. ‘So much quicker and more comfortable than the train.’
He watched her as she stumbled up the path and fumbled for her door key. As he rolled down the car window to call out a futile injunction to keep out of things from now on, the door flew open, a voice said, ‘Where have you been, for God’s sake?’ and she seemed to topple headlong into the house.
25
SATURDAY 20th NOVEMBER
08.00: INFORMATION
‘I’ve got them,’ Steve Boxer said. ‘Armand and M-M-Martine Ducret.’
He had something good, Scott knew. The stammer was the way Steve betrayed excitement.
‘And?’ he asked.
‘And they’re both in Swiss prisons.’
‘For?’
‘He for a sexual assault on a minor and taking pornographic images of children – seven years; she for the procurement of minors for indecent purposes and the distribution of pornographic images of children – five years.’
‘When were they convicted?’
‘Last year.’
‘Get me all the details you can, Steve. Names and addresses of the children involved, if possible.’
‘Could be difficult. The Swiss are hot on protecting witnesses.’
‘See what you can do.’
He looked round the room. ‘What else have we got?’
‘We’ve got Neil Cunningham in custody,’ Andy Finnegan said, with studied casualness.
‘Good work, Andy. How did you find him?’
‘I thought he might try to get into the theatre during the night, to see what we’d taken. I put a couple of men on patrol. They spotted him round the back just after five this morning. It was still dark, but he triggered a security light.’
‘What was he doing?’
‘Mooring the Carsons’ boat.’
‘Anything in it?’
‘Practically nothing.’
‘There was stuff in it when it left Charter Hall yesterday.’ To Andy Finnegan’s questioning glance, he added, ‘He was seen by a witness.’
‘So he delivered it to somewhere else on his way?’
‘More likely ditched it in the river.’
‘What kind of stuff was it?’
‘Nursery stuff.’
‘That figures. I said the boat was practically empty. There was a doll. Cabbage Patch Kid sort of thing. One that got away, I guess.’
‘What did you find at the theatre?’
‘Plenty, potentially. Files of agents’ photos of kids and mailing lists of addresses too far afield to be theatre-goers in Marlbury.’
‘Good. Now comes the crap job, Andy. I need you to watch that DVD all the way through and look for matches with the kids in those agents’ brochures. Did anyone check the DVDs in the box? Do they all have the same number on them?’
‘I checked,’ Paula said. ‘There are fives on the top and sixes underneath.’
‘Then you’ll need to watch one of each. Paula, how do you feel? Are you up for joining Andy on that?’
She gave him a long look. ‘Course I am.’
‘Good. Anything else?’
‘Prints,’ Paula said. ‘Edmund’s prints are on the DVDs. We took a sample of ten and his prints are on all of them.’
‘On the discs themselves?’
‘Discs and cases both.’
‘So the chances are he packaged them up. Right, we’ll bring him in. I’ll do it. Sean, you come with me. They’ll have Saturday morning lessons at The Abbey, so he’ll still be there. The headmaster’s bound to kick up a fuss so I’d better be there. Arresting him will bring the Carsons in, I imagine, but that’s no bad thing. Andy, before you start on the DVDs, pass those mailing lists onto Vice. Get them to run checks on all those names. Paula, I want searches of Driver’s and Cunningham’s houses right away.’
Canon Aylmer did not, in fact, kick up a fuss. When Scott phoned him, he quickly abandoned bluster and accepted the inevitable, grateful for the suggestion that he summon Edmund to his study so that he could be removed discreetly. Edmund was pale and watchful, but seemed unsurprised at their arrival. When offered the chance to phone his parents, he declined; when offered the choice of the duty solicitor or the family solicitor, he opted for the duty solicitor. The duty sergeant phoned his parents anyway. The phone went unanswered and he left a message.
Back at the station, Scott went to interview Neil Cunningham. He’d been thinking hard, on the way back from Marlbury Abbey School, about Cunningham’s behaviour. Why hadn’t he and Driver moved faster to destroy evidence? Why were the DVDs still there yesterday? Why hadn’t the photos and mailing lists been shredded? Once they knew Gina had a DVD, they must have known it was all up, mustn’t they? Mugging her and taking the DVD back was a desperate act but it could only buy them a bit of time. Stealing only the DVD and none of her other belongings had been an amateurish mistake, only drawing attention to its significance. But they had taken no action, and Cunningham’s first concern had been to destroy evidence from Charter Hall. Could it be that they hadn’t
realised that they were in the frame? Edmund knew that Gina had seen the DVDs at Charter Hall. When she turned up with one, he would naturally have assumed that she’d got it from there and he’d have passed the information on to Driver and Cunningham. Their priority, then, had been to get rid of the DVDs at Charter Hall and the evidence that filming had gone on there.
He left Edmund Carson with the duty sergeant and went to the interview room where Neil Cunningham was waiting for him. It must have come as a shock to Cunningham to find that, while he was busy cleaning up Charter Hall, the police had been taking sacks full of evidence away from his office, but there was no evidence of shock now. He sat back in his chair, hands loosely clasped on the table in front of him, an expression of amused alertness on his tanned face. His silvergrey hair was smooth, his clothes unruffled. A casual observer would have taken him for interviewer rather than interviewee. Unlike Alex Driver, he had rejected the offer of a solicitor. Scott fought down rising fury. Who did these people think they were, Driver, Cunningham, the Carsons, with their undentable confidence, their teflon-coated detachment, their amused superiority?
He switched on the tape, introduced himself and Sean Lytton and got started. ‘Mr Cunningham,’ he said brusquely, laying out on the table photocopies of the brochures and mailing lists taken from his office, ‘these are copies of items taken from the desk in your office at the Aphra Behn Theatre. As you can see, they are model agencies’ brochures showing pictures of children, and mailing lists with addresses in this country and continental Europe. Can you tell me the purpose of these items?’
Cunningham smiled. ‘I run a theatre, Chief Inspector Scott. Agents send me pictures of their clients – and we have to maintain contact with our audience base.’
‘Don’t play games with us, Mr Cunningham. It’s a waste of everybody’s time. Only a handful of the addresses on these mailing lists are local. These are not potential audience members.’
‘You’d be surprised how far our fame spreads.’
‘And the photographs?’
‘As I say, agents send them – of adults as well as children.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘What?’
‘Why are you at pains to suggest that you have photos of adults as well as children?’
‘Oh, please. Now who’s playing games? I’m not stupid. I know what you’re after. If I’m brought in here in a dawn raid and questioned about photographs of children, I can work out what general area we’re talking about. Though I have to say I’m not sure where the mailing lists fit in. Am I supposed to be engaged in selling children by mail order?’
‘In effect, yes.’
‘Really?’
‘What do you know about DVDs, apparently recordings of the show, Amy, being stored at your theatre?’
‘I’ve seen them around.’
‘Have you watched one?’
‘No.’
‘But you organised the recording?’
‘I believe Alex Driver, my stage manager, did that.’
‘Glenys Summers says you did it.’
‘Why have you been talking to Glenys? I really would advise you not to go to Glenys for your information, Chief Inspector. She’s not reliable.’
‘But it was Edmund Carson who made the recording?’
‘Edmund? No, I don’t think so. Why Edmund? He’s only a boy.’
‘I was informed that Edmund did it.’
‘Well you were informed wrong. I’ve told you, leave Glenys and her family out of this.’
‘Were you present when the recording was made?’
‘No.’
‘So you don’t actually know who made it?’
‘I’d know if I’d paid a schoolboy to do it.’
‘Who did you pay?’
‘I really don’t recall. It was months ago. You have all my records now. No doubt you’ll be able to find out.’
‘Further stocks of these DVDs were being stored at Charter Hall until a short time ago. Why would that be?’
‘I have no idea. Christmas presents, perhaps.’
‘If I told you that I’ve watched one of the DVDs found at your theatre and it contains pornographic material designed for paedophiles, you would be amazed, I suppose?’
Neil Cunningham leaned back in his chair. ‘I would be amazed,’ he said.
‘What did you mean when you said that Glenys Summers was unreliable?’
‘I meant leave her out of all this. It’s all Glenys can do to get herself on stage every night. Leave her alone.’
‘I’m interested that you’re so anxious to protect her, Mr Cunningham. What did you do with the material you removed from Charter Hall yesterday afternoon?’
He saw the manicured hands on the table opposite him clench, momentarily, into fists. ‘What material?’
‘You tell me.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Scott leaned forward. ‘I’m talking about a boat-load of soft toys, bedding and nursery furniture. You were seen going up river from Charter Hall yesterday afternoon in a motor boat belonging to the Carson family, with a load of that description. Shortly after five this morning, you moored the boat behind the Aphra Behn Theatre. It was empty except for one item. Would you like to tell me what you did with the rest?’
‘This is sheer fantasy. I know quite well who has told you this story and it’s utter nonsense.’
‘Do you deny that you brought the boat up to the theatre?’
‘Of course not.’
‘And what did you do with it between leaving Charter Hall around 4pm and arriving at the theatre at 5am this morning?’
‘I moored it at the bottom of my garden –’
‘– Which is just outside Marlbury. We know. I have officers there searching the premises at this moment.’
‘And you really expect to find a stash of fluffy toys there?’
‘No, I don’t. I assume that you ditched your load in the river as soon as it was dark – all except this.’ He placed on the table an evidence bag containing a rag doll. ‘I’m quite prepared to drag the river between here and Lower Shepton, but I’d far sooner you told me where you dumped the stuff. We have enough evidence now to charge you with possession of indecent images of children; by Monday, when you appear before a magistrate, I expect to add further charges. Cooperating with us is really your only option at this point.’
‘I think I’d like my solicitor here at this point. I take it that’s all right?’
‘That’s all right, but if you’re thinking of applying for bail, I should tell you we shall oppose it. We have good reason to believe that you would attempt to intimidate witnesses. We’ll pick up where we left off when your solicitor arrives.’
Scott and Lytton got themselves coffee from a machine and Scott tried ringing Charter Hall again. There was still no reply. ‘We’ll go and see him anyway,’ Scott said. As they were walking to interview room two, his phone started ringing. He checked the caller ID: Gina. He switched it off.
They found Edmund in animated conversation with the duty solicitor, a young woman Scott had not met before. She introduced herself as Laleh Shahidi and asked if Edmund’s parents had been contacted. Edmund intervened. ‘There’s no need, Laleh – I can call you Laleh, can’t I? I don’t want to worry them. You may not know, but my sister was killed only a few weeks ago.’ He shot a reproachful glance at Scott. ‘I really don’t want them bothered with this nonsense.’
‘If that’s your client’s decision,’ Scott said to Laleh Shahidi, ‘then I’d like to get started.’ She gave a little gesture of reluctant agreement and he turned to Edmund. ‘I understand you’ve been selling DVDs of your mother’s show, Amy.’
‘Then you understand wrong. I haven’t.’
‘You were seen selling one. You offered to get one for one of your teachers.’
‘Oh, her!’ He gave Scott a disconcertingly adult look and Scott felt himself begin to flush. ‘She wanted one and she seemed to be so i
nto it, I said I’d get her one. That doesn’t mean I sell them.’
‘We removed a box of DVDs, packaged as the recording of the show, from the Aphra Behn Theatre yesterday. Your fingerprints were all over them – both the packaging and the discs themselves.’
‘I don’t deny packing them up. Doesn’t mean I sell them.’
‘If you don’t make any money out of them, why pack them up?’
‘Just doing my bit. And I get paid for the hours I put in.’
‘Did you make the recording?’
‘What?’
‘Was it you who filmed the show?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘But you are keen on photography and film? You have a studio, don’t you, at home?’
‘If you can call it a studio. It’s just an old pigsty, actually.’
‘If you didn’t film it, who did?’
‘How should I know?’
‘Alex Driver says you filmed it.’
‘Alex Driver would.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You can’t trust Driver, Chief Inspector. You can’t believe a word he says.’
‘Not a good person to go into business with then, is he?’
‘I wasn’t aware that I had.’
‘Your mother says Neil Cunningham arranged the filming; Cunningham says he left it all to Alex Driver; Driver says you were the cameraman; you say you know nothing about it. You’ve not done very well at co-ordinating your stories, have you?’
‘Why all this fuss about who did the filming anyway?’
‘Because there never was a film, was there? It was a fiction – just a cover for what you were really filming, and selling.’
Edmund leaned back in his chair. ‘This is fascinating,’ he drawled. ‘Do go on.’
‘It will come as no surprise to you to hear that when we watched these so-called show DVDs, we found instead footage of indecent and obscene acts involving young children. In other words, pornography designed for paedophiles.’
‘Really?’ Edmund tipped his chair back on two legs. ‘How extraordinary.’
All the Daughters Page 24